The Trials and Tribulations of Chang Wufei
by Nasa Maxwell-Yuy
Summary: Ever wonder why Wufei is such a grump?  Crackfic


Oh Wufei. Goddamn. You are worse then Duo when it comes to random inspiration.

**Disclaimer: **Not only do I not own Gundam Wing, but this is complete and utter crack and not to be taken seriously.

People thought Quatre Winner had things hard, being an empath. Imagine, going through a war being able to sense the fear and pain of everybody you killed! People were sure it must have been just horrible. People thought it must have been an awful experience.

People were wrong.

Being a telepath is what really _sucked_.

Wufei gritted his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off a massive headache. Maxwell's random chattering (aka talking to himself) wouldn't be so bad if his thoughts didn't often run in completely opposite directions. The braided annoyance was leaning on the back of Heero's desk chair, apparently retelling a story about a cat that Hilde had heard from someone else's mother's brother, while his mind was busy comparing how fast a sharp knife could cut through various fabrics. The dichotomy making Wufei's head pound.

He really, _really_ didn't want to know what Duo planned to do with that information anyway.

All five of the pilots were currently crammed into Heero and Trowa's office at Preventers HQ, for various reasons. Duo was making one of his random trips from down his own office down the hall, likely just because he was bored. Quatre had made one of his equally random "visits" from Winner Corporation that day as well. Supposedly he was there to invite them all out to lunch later, "Just to catch up" (as if they hadn't done that LAST week). Wufei didn't need his damnable telepathy to see the way the blond was not-so-subtly ogling Trowa, though.

Ulterior motives, indeed.

Wufei himself wouldn't face the rest of them until after at _least _another two cups of coffee, but Heero had files he needed, and he'd been forced to brave Hurricane Maxwell on only a paltry three and a half.

Yuy's mind was even worse then Maxwell's sometimes, if in sheer volume if not in utter weirdness. Heero's mind tended to run on at least half a dozen different levels at once. He could be keeping tabs on random points of interest in whatever Duo was telling him, looking over mission parameters, listing problems with Preventers supply resources, and admiring just well Duo's jeans accented his ass, while adding a mental note to jump him later that evening.

All at the same time.

Wufei easily could have gone the rest of his life without knowing just how much of a pervert the so-called "perfect soldier" really was, though he had to give Yuy major props for creativity. Relena would just _die_ if she ever found out. Wufei made a mental note of his own to arrange this, and sell tickets. The scene was sure to be one that would become a Preventers legend.

Trowa was managing to participate in two different conversations at once, chatting pleasantly with Quatre while also tossing in occasional comments to whatever topic Duo was on now. Wufei routinely made a conscious effort to stay out of Trowa's head insofar much as he was capable of doing. The mind's eye can not unsee.

Quatre was particularly animated today, and occasionally Wufei had to duck out of the way of one of the blond's more enthusiastic gestures. He didn't care too much, though. Quatre's mind was always something of a relief. Their resident idealist didn't spend nearly as much time pondering weighty matters of morality and justice (or stock prices) as one might think.

In fact, often all Wufei picked up from Quatre's head was elevator music.

He was willing to give the blond the benefit of the doubt on that one, though. Either way, Wufei appreciated it. It gave his poor overloaded mind a rest before he snapped and went kamikaze on them all.

The rest of the people he was forced to associate on a daily basis were just as bad. Une still had split personalities. Sally had an unhealthy fascination with mentally diagnosing mental disorders. Noin couldn't keep hold of a thought for longer then a few seconds. Zechs narrated everything in a style usually suited for a bad romance novel.

For the love of god... It wasn't even ten in the morning yet, and Wufei already felt like he needed something stiffer then black coffee.

And people wondered why he was so grumpy all the time.


End file.
